


The Intimacy of Feathers

by Ira_Dunfort



Series: The Grey Fledgling [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A Second South Downs Cottage, Attempt at Humor, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gabriel Cooks, Gabriel Has Issues (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kid Fic, M/M, Paperwork, Porn with Feelings, Pregnancy, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Smut, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Swearing, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wing Meta, porn with banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 17:33:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21581320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ira_Dunfort/pseuds/Ira_Dunfort
Summary: The one in which an angel and a demon go to the pool. We shall focus on the matter of wings and their grooming.Gabriel has issues.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: The Grey Fledgling [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499264
Comments: 22
Kudos: 139





	The Intimacy of Feathers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AEpixie7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/gifts).



> For this, I went on a page with tips on how to prepare your chickens to look pretty for poultry shows. You’re welcome. 
> 
> Gifted to AEpixie7 for wing goodness she inspired me to. 
> 
> Enjoy the feathery softness this turned into.

"Pack your shit, Gabriel." An angry Lord of Flies ordered while standing beside the angel's desk in their living room, a hand on her hip, waiting for him to move.

"No!" Gabriel grumbled, hunching over his laptop.

"Don't make me repeat myself." She let an empty duffel bag fall onto his orderly stacked paperwork. "Last chance to get this done peacefully." 

Gabriel dropped his pencil and leaned back in his chair, glaring at her with spite. "You're not my boss."

"I could _tell_ your boss, you little shit." Beelzebub folded her hands with a stern look.

He raised his chin in defiance. "What, that I disobey the command of a demon? I dare say She'd like that."

"That you deny the mother of your unborn child the comfort and intimacy of wing grooming." Beelzebub pointed out, hands still folded, a pang of annoyance blooming inside her as he averted his eyes. "We settled on once a month, and it's been five weeks now, you filthy angel." She scrunched her nose for emphasis. 

"Fine!" Gabriel barked and jumped from his seat, grabbing the bag. "But why don't you just pack what I need, you know where everything is."

"I'm not _your mum_." She called after him as he stormed off into their bedroom to collect towels, his flip-flops and swimming trunks. 

The archangel paid meticulous attention to his corporation, it was no secret that he had an inclination for vanity. He worked out to shape his body, bathed and showered to keep it clean and his skin healthy, shaved for appearance, exfoliated and moisturized to put in the extra effort. He gets his hair cut every six weeks. Beelzebub had even caught him taking care of his eyebrows.

Yet, he did neglect his wings. He downright ignored them, and you don't get to ignore _the reality of being_ under Beelzebub's watch. 

He went from bedroom to bathroom, still refusing to look at her. He packed his comb, shower gel, shampoo, conditioner and a smaller towel for his hair. 

"Honey, where is the silk cloth?" He asked while going through the narrow closet between bathtub and sink.

"Already in my bag." 

Gabriel mumbled something unintelligible in reply and walked passed her to pull on his shoes and jacket. "Let's go then."

  


  


The day before, she had hoped Gabriel would get the hint so that he'd bring up grooming himself. She'd given him an extra week, on a generous streak. Aziraphale and Crowley had stopped by to deliver the ordered books. Crowley had brought a cookbook as well and left it wordlessly in the kitchen where he stopped in his tracks to look at the ultrasound picture on the fridge. His husband joined him, and a lengthy discussion on wings had ensued. That surely could have served as a sufficient reminder to the reluctant archangel.

"So, you're saying demons have free will over the colour of their wings?" The principality asked in astonishment, eyeing his spouse with suspicion. He'd never seen demon wings beside Crowley's, so he had assumed they were all pitch black.

"Yes. Most stick to something dark, but there are quite a few who've tried every colour of the rainbow." Beelzebub replied around a mouthful of pretzels. "Dagon's wings, for example, are an imitation of the brown pelican. She's worn them like this for at least 3000 years."

"Crowley, do you have anything to say about that?" Aziraphale asked sharply. 

"My wings will be a different colour than black as soon as God invents something darker." 

"You fashionable darling demon." The blonde angel tutted affectionately. "So demons can have white wings as well?"

"Not glowy white, but light enough." Beelzebub shrugged, grabbing more of the craved-for snack. 

"Did anyone ever use that to infiltrate...?" Aziraphale pointed upwards, looking over to where Gabriel was cleaning and cutting portobellos in preparation for escalope chasseur with Swabian noodles he'd make for dinner.

Beelzebub smugly sipped her apple juice. "I will neither confirm or deny that."

On the other side of the kitchen stood a blushing archangel remembering in great detail how a particular demon had dressed up and snuck into his office. It didn't happen just once.

Michael probably knew.

  


  


At roughly two in the morning, a demon prince and an archangel walked into the indoor pool located three villages over, disregarding locked doors and unseen to surveillance. They changed out of their clothes and into swimwear, grey trunks for Gabriel and a simple black bathing suit with thin red borders for Beelzebub. Once they were through the door and stepped into the pool area, they manifested their wings and gave them a good stretch. 

"Go on, have some fun first." Beelzebub said and smacked Gabriel's backside. He was always more tolerable after a workout. 

The pool wasn't big, but it had six 25 metre lanes for swimming with a three-metre springboard. It fit their needs well enough. The smaller children's pool on the side never got much attention from them, but the Prince was staring at it from her vantage point atop the springboard tower. She shook her head and brought her eyes upon her angel who was diving from one end of the pool to the other, flapping his massive wings underwater. He surfaced and looked up to her, his wings repeatedly hitting the water like the big bathing bird he was. 

"Don't you want to come down?" He held out his arms, legs kicking to keep himself afloat. 

She laughed. "Don't try to catch me." Beelzebub got up to her feet, toes curling around the board's edge. She jumped, arms straight ahead, dark wings expanded to glide for a second before she tucked them tightly to her back as she delved down into the pool. Underwater she shimmied her wings, shaking off the bubbles gathered on her feathers before swimming up to Gabriel, keeping her wings under the surface to soak them. 

"I'll never tire of seeing you do this." He said before he pulled the demon flat against his chest to kiss her. 

  


  


One and a half years ago, give or take, the Lord of Flies was standing in the open door of Gabriel's heavenly office. 

"Beelzebub?" The archangel stammered in surprise as he stood dumbfounded behind his desk. "What are you doing?"

"Sneaking into your office undercover." She explained full of mirth, straightening the lapels of her champagne coloured suit jacket. "The shoes your lot wears are _atrocious_ by the way."

"I know," he held his hands up to placate, "but your wings--". He hesitated and gestured to the demon's sides, eyes darting between her face and feathers, bewildered. 

"Are white, yes, to fit in." She curled one to her front, flexing to separate her primaries. 

"Put them away." Gabriel demanded in a low voice.

"What?" Beelzebub blinked, confused.

"If you want to fit in, put them _away_. You can't just stroll around with your wings out." He kept his voice hushed.

"Is that why everyone looked so offended?" She shuffled her wings behind her back but made no allusions to dismissing them. "I thought it was because they recognized me."

Gabriel nervously carded a hand through his hair. "At least come in and close the door, will you."

"Under one condition." She crossed her arms, unmoving.

"Beelzebub, _please_." The archangel was ready to beg. 

She didn't like this, any of this. She had a feeling that shame was involved here, and she would not accept that. Not when Gabriel was looking at her _like that_.

"Get your wings out, too." She kept her voice soft as she offered her request, he already looked uncomfortable enough.

"What for?" His brow furrowed, he was clearly taken aback by what she asked of him.

"Scandalize me."

He was in his office, no one would be seeing him. It would be ok, right? "Fine." he huffed. "But get in."

Beelzebub stepped inside and quietly closed the door. She proceeded to hop onto the desk between them, wings hanging off the edge behind her. He pushed his chair out of the way before taking a deep breath. His wings manifested, expended, wall to wall, the tips of his primaries bending. 

She bit her bottom lip at the impressive sight. "I don't think I can get mine to be this pristinely white."

"The cream white you have is easier on the eye if you ask me." He said and instantly seemed flustered by his own words.

She leaned her head to one side, smiling up at him. "Did you just point out a design flaw in angels?"

"No. In humans." He corrected with a grimace.

"Right." She didn't buy that. "Can I see the others as well? Don't you have three pairs?"

He looked agitated, eyes repeatedly flicking to the door. "If you show me your true colours." Negotiation. It was a common thing between them, so easily translated from work to their new personal relationship.

"There is no true colour, our wings can be anything but _that_ white." She poked at his wings.

" _Your_ true colours. What they look like when you're you, when they're-" Gabriel struggled to put it into words. 

"When my wings reflect who I am?" Beelzebub finished for him. 

He nodded, relieved that she understood. "Yes, that." He watched enthralled as her wings bled colour, how her wings turned black starting from where they connected to her back until each primary and secondary was finally finished off with each feather's tip being adorned in a vibrant red. "They are beautiful." 

Beelzebub's feathers bristled at the unexpected compliment. _Interesting._

Her plan had been to slip into his office and have him fuck her on his desk. But here they were, gingerly running fingers through each others' feathers, kissing, their corporations buzzing with delight at each touch. 

Gabriel was absolutely fascinated with how expressive wings seemed to be. How her wings rose when he wrapped his arms around her, twitched when he found a ticklish spot just beneath her ribs. He playfully bit Beelzebub's neck and observed how her feathers puffed as she gasped. 

Even how she'd smack him in the face with them when he got too cocky made him smile. Beelzebub indulged his odd curiosity, she found it rather endearing how Gabriel, a millennia-old archangel, was exploring as if he had never seen wings in the first place. She'd have questions for him, later, as there clearly was something wrong. 

Right now, having him cocoon her in all his six white wings and as he took her face in both hands for a breathtaking, deep kiss laden with emotion, she could do nothing more but enjoy the moment. 

  


  


Beelzebub did get her answers, bit by bit, during her subsequent visits. She nonchalantly wandered in and out of Heaven as she pleased, at first disguised in creams and greys, later just dressed as herself, demanding an audience with the archangel to discuss the proceedings of truce, her red sash glowing garishly in the colourlessness of Heaven that only had one redeeming fleck of purple hidden away in a spacious and hopefully soundproof office.

From what Beelzebub had gathered, wings, initially, were what visually separated angels from humans. The God-given corporations of angels were meant to impress Her latest creation, to be as imposing as they were graceful. An angel descending from Heaven, wings wide, impossibly white and radiant to inspire awe, that was what they are intended for. They were a defining part of Her inspiration to a prophet and the intimidation to those being warned of Her wrath. Wings were, at there core, an extension of God's will. 

In Heaven, angels walked the vast halls in modesty. Their uniform white wings were obediently hidden away in the ether, as they were intrinsically not granted for self-expression. 

All of that was a load of bullshit in Beelzebub's opinion. 

Hell had an entirely different issue with wings, as they had painfully cut ties with God. You could do with your feathered appendages whatever you wanted. They were your own canvas to colour in, by your will, hard-won through the pain of Falling.

Problem was, there is simply no space for them in the Underground's crowded hallways and stuffed offices.

  


  


"My wings always feel so blessed heavy when I get back out." Beelzebub whined and shook herself, spraying the tiles around her with water. 

"It is good exercise, you have to admit." Gabriel said behind her.

She turned around and saw him ascending the pool's staircase. His six sopping wet wings were hanging low, water ran from his drenched hair down his chest and hit the grey swim trunks that were clinging to his body. 

A few moments later she had him pinned down to one of the old deck chairs, swimwear discarded, riding his cock in earnest. She deserved a little treat before she had to face his bickering while grooming his wings. Having him this deep inside her, that was just the treat she needed.

"Fuck." She hissed, her orgasm washing through her body, making her damp wings quake. She felt Gabriel's abdominal muscles tighten under her hands as he held back on his own climax.

"I'm not done with you yet, honey." He quipped, adjusting his leverage. 

"You're distracting me on purpose, aren't you?" She felt herself twitch around his cock over and over. "At least slow down."

"You were the one who jumped me." Gabriel disagreed and picked up his pace, throwing her into another orgasm, holding onto her hips as she rode it out. He _so_ loved watching her wings beat in ecstasy.

"I had--," a jittery moan broke her sentence, "I had every reason to." She gasped as he held her in place, the angel was relentlessly thrusting up into her. "And you don't get to butter me up with pleasure."

"We'll see about-- _oh, sweet Hell!_ " He threw his head back.

Beelzebub had a hunch that he was trying to drag this out so they'd have less time to work on his wings. What he seemed to have forgotten that she knew him, _intimately_. She knew the exact pace, angle and pressure needed to get him off in no time. The Prince concentrated to clench around his cock when he retreated and loosened her hold when he pushed back in, making him plunge deep to then feel like he's being held there. 

"That's it." She could see how close he was, the archangel could be so easy. "Cum for me." 

Gabriel buried himself flush inside the demon when his climax made him keen underneath her, his wings stretched out and shuddered blissfully as his cock pulsed inside Beelzebub with release.

  


  


Despite all that, he was still petulant when it came to grooming. They had showered and went into the front area of the changing rooms. A worn-down plastic chair was dragged from its usual spot underneath a wall-mounted blow-dryer to stand in front of the large mirror decorating the entire wall. 

Beelzebub had dried her own wings by heating them up from the inside before Gabriel started to neatly align her feathers and polishing them with a silk cloth. Her wings were the shiniest black and red now. As usual, she kept them out for as long as she groomed Gabriel's. Once she was done the angel's feathers would glisten like the finest porcelain.

"Will you fucking hold still."

"Honey, all of this isn't necessary, I can miracle them clean, we both can."

"Says the angel who _flosses_ on a daily basis." She made him raise his more sensitive secondary pair. "You barely ever eat. How come you take that much care of yourself except for your wings?"

"Because--"

"If your answer is 'because they are not part of my corporation' again I'm going to fucking drag you back in there and drown you."

"I won't say it then." All of his feathers puffed in exasperation.

"Ugh." The Prince growled at his childishness, but got back to work, carding her heated fingers deftly through his plumes to dry and straighten them out. "Your argument doesn't hold anymore, you realize that, hopefully. You've seen the ultrasound. The wings, they are part of us, they _are_ corporeal. And yours are not just some magic tool of God, either, they are part of your own body. Please treat them with due respect."

"But I _am_ a tool of God."

"You're a tool because you're _stupid_." She pinched his wing's delicate skin which made him sit up properly in an instant. "You're her Messenger, I'm not denying that. But you're also your own person. Your body belongs to you, the _entire_ thing, feathery bits included. Don't mistake your work for your full identity. You're Her Messenger just as much as you are Gabriel, obsessively lavender and purple loving, My-Body-is-a-Temple-Gabriel, with your own ideas and wishes and a cottage in a tiny English village with an inexplicably infatuated demon in your bed."

The archangel hummed thoughtfully, holding one of his wings in front of him. He did train them for the past year, as it was something he enjoyed and Beelzebub liked to watch. He trained them to keep them strong, like his body, and, admittedly, to be attractive. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that they didn't really belong to him. He reached for the longest feathers at the tip of his wing, still warm from Beelzebub's hands. 

"We're people. Weird, ancient and winged people, just as much as we are ethereal. Don't you dare tell me I'm in love with a _tool_."

"How do I deserve you?" It was meant as an insult and an honest, humble question at the same time. 

"By not actually being as dumb as you look." Beelzebub answered, going for an underhanded compliment as well. She leaned against his back, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and flattened her wings onto his, letting their warmth seep into them.

Gabriel didn't respond, only turned his head to kiss her, softly.

It did get the message across.

  


  


They left before the first humans showed up to prepare the pool for customers. On their way home, the two of them stopped by a bakery. Gabriel charmed the staff enough to get a free piece of their new peach tart out of it.

What they did not expect was a visitor this early in the morning. Gabriel sighed and pulled his Prius into the garage. "Do you want me to deal with her?"

"This is my home as well, I'm coming with you." Beelzebub announced and was already on her way to the garden gate. "Micheal, stop harassing our neighbours."

"Good morning, _Bella_." Micheal greeted with a nod of her head. "Mrs Clarke kept me company while you were out."

Their neighbour looked hesitantly between the two women in front of her. There clearly was some conflict, and good Lord, she wanted to know what it was. "Miss Micheal told me she's a colleague of your dear Mr Smith?"

"Gabriel, how good to see you." The female archangel smiled professionally at the Messenger as he approached.

"I always wondered who you work for, Mr Smith." Mrs Clarke was fishing for gossip again. 

Beelzebub smirked. "He's basically his mum's secretary."

Gabriel groaned. "Really? That's how you put it?" They already thought he was her boy toy, what would the humans make of this?

"It's the world's largest charity organization specialized in self-improvement." Micheal was kind enough to add. "He's head of HR and controlling, I handle legal matters."

Beelzebub interjected. "She means sniffing out the plans of the rival company to screw them over."

"Luckily, they stink all the way to Heaven." Micheal retorted with a contemptuous smile. 

"Fuck you, too." Beelzebub crossed her arms, grin unwavering. "First admitting to pride and now an excuse for sloth?"

Micheal ignored the demon Prince and turned back to the human. "Gabriel and I have worked together for ages but rarely see each other now that he's settled down … here." She explained with a dismissive flourish at their cottage and its quaint surroundings.

That clearly rubbed Mrs Clarke the wrong way. "This is a fine village, Miss Micheal, I'm sure his family will be very happy here."

"Family?"

**Author's Note:**

> Up next: The seven Princes, what’s the real issue with vices, and how to deal with Micheal.
> 
> See you soon ♥


End file.
